


When the Thermometer Goes Way Up

by MerryHeart



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerryHeart/pseuds/MerryHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is 2013 and there should be a better way to make sure the air conditioning in an entire apartment building doesn't blow during a heat wave."</p>
<p>In honor of the heat, Will and Mac both doubt they can survive with no AC, but for different reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Thermometer Goes Way Up

**Author's Note:**

> Set some time post-Will-and-Mac-working-their-shit-out.

           “Isn’t there a song about this?” Mackenzie groans as she kicks the sheet off of her legs.

            Will, momentarily distracted by those legs, is only half-listening. “Hmm?”

            “In one of those musicals you love, the one that’s like _Taming of the Shrew_.” It reminds her a bit of them, although she doesn’t mention that now. “Something about it being too damn hot.”

            “That’s from _Kiss Me, Kate_ , and the song is “Too _Darn_ Hot”, because it was written in the forties.”

            “Well this is 2013 and there should be a better way to make sure the air conditioning in an entire apartment building doesn’t blow during a heat wave.”

            Will can’t argue with that. They’ve got a box fan that he dug out of the back of a closet going full blast, but it’s doing very little. Mackenzie rolls over with a huff and Will slips an arm around her waist.

            “No no no no no,” she says as she scoots to the edge of the bed and just out of his reach. “You are a human furnace, Will McAvoy. I don’t need you giving me heat stroke.”

            “I don’t think that’s how heat stroke works—”

            “I don’t care.”

            Will sighs. She may be worried about heat stroke, but he’s more worried about her giving him a heart attack. She’s abandoned her customary sleepwear of an oversized t-shirt for one of those strappy nightgowns he occasionally wishes she would wear more often, and the sight of her stretched out next to him, long legs and bare shoulders and hair off her neck, is doing nothing to cool him off.

            He shifts closer to her and trails his fingers down her arm. “How’s a cold shower sound?”

            “Delightful,” she says as she rolls back over, “until one considers that it’s so humid we’d never be completely dry again.”

            “Mac—”

            She buries her face in the pillow and moans, “I just want to sleep.” She sounds like she’s on the verge of exhausted tears. It was a busy week and she ran it more on coffee than sleep. She stays facedown for a minute before deciding (after careful consideration) that oppressive heat is preferable to smothering herself. She rolls onto her back and stares at the vents, trying to get the air to come back on by sheer force of will. “My English blood can’t handle this.”

            “You’re an American,” Will reminds her.

            “My _blood_ is English!”

            “So is mine.”

            “I have the accent!”

            She sighs heavily.

            “You ran a good show this week,” Will tells her.

            “Thank you. I should try getting more than four or five hours of sleep, though.”

            “Some of that was my fault.”

            She turns her head and smiles mischievously. “Don’t take all the credit. I _was_ a willing participant. Occasionally the instigator.”

            She gives little shrug and _damn_ is it hot in here. Will is preparing himself to spend all night lying awake wondering why these sorts of things happen to him when they hear a couple of clangs, followed by a low rumble that joins the whirr of the fan as the air comes back on.

            “Thank God,” Mackenzie yawns. “You have permission to touch me again.”

            Will pulls her over and she lays her head on his chest. In the morning he’ll propose a Saturday of getting out of bed only when absolutely necessary, but for now, as the AC restores the temperature to something more fit for human life, he wraps his arms around Mackenzie as she drifts off into well-deserved oblivion.


End file.
